


Il Titolare del Demone [The Holder of the Demon]

by Ricky B (littletoes101)



Series: Demon Holders [1]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletoes101/pseuds/Ricky%20B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Modern day, teenager!AU. Based off of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, though not a direct parody] “Were you involved with Il Titolare del Demone?” “Yes...my boyfriend, in high school, he was a diavolo custode. He introduced me to it.” “What happened to him?” “He died.” The day after catching a glimpse of the mysterious coydog that's been following him for weeks, a new student, Dallas Genoard, joins Luck Gandor's classes. He has a feeling that there's something strange about this boy, but he can't pinpoint it...that is, until he sees a demon spring from the boy's shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue, I

**Prologue, I**

“Luck Gandor?”

The blonde haired man jumps as his name is called, unusually nervous today. Usually, Luck puts up a calm facade, and he's gotten very good at masking his emotions over the years. However, he's been fretting over today's appointment with the information brochures since last night, wondering what he was going to say. He remembers all sorts of things that he doesn't want to; the Devil Boys, Akuma, Felidae, the battle at the pier...

Dallas's death.

Luck swallows heavily as he stands, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. He picks up the briefcase full of the notebooks and drawing pads that he'd kept with him during that turbulent year, and he heads off behind the African American man, Elean, who called for him. He leads him into a small back room, away from the main room filled with bustling employees and the scent of paper and ink, and quietly shuts the door and locks it. Another man, a blonde who Luck hasn't seen before, is lounging on the couch, talking loudly on a cellphone.

“Yeah? No, I don't have time for that right now...listen, sir, I know you're upset...okay, my twelve o' clock is here now, I'm gonna have to let you go...bye.” He presses a button on the phone, shoving it quickly into his pocket. “Ah, you must be Mister Luck Gandor, from the Gandor family, welcome, welcome!” He motions for Luck to take a seat on the couch across from him, and he does, watching as Elean leans against the locked door, his brown eyes glaring at the blonde from behind his tinted glasses. They must have had some kind of rivalry.

“My name is Nicholas,” the blonde man says again, and Luck's attention snaps to him. Luck's fingers curl tightly around the briefcase, and he holds it close to his chest.

 _Deep breaths. You can do this. Just talk._ Cornelius's voice, soothing instead of teasing for once whispers. Luck does just that, closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, thinks about the Devil Boys, thinks about Dallas. He exhales slowly, opening his eyes to look over at Nicholas.

“That's right. I'm Luck Gandor, and...” He pauses, trying his best not to stutter. This would be an embarrassing time to have it come out. “I'm here to talk about...about Il Titolare del Demone.” Nicholas's eyes flash with curiosity, as Luck knows that they would. Many people have heard the legends of the holders of demons, but many have brushed it off as old wives tales or children's stories.

But Luck doesn't.

He knows the truth those stories hold. He's experienced it firsthand.

Because of it, his lover is dead. Luck holds back the tears by taking another deep breath.

“So what do you want to know?” Luck asks. “I'll have you know, I was told I'll be paid well for the information I give.”

“And be paid well, you will,” Nicholas assures him, and Luck frowns. He's not sure about that. Then again, he's not really in it for the money, anyway. “Were you involved with Il Titolare del Demone?”

“Yes...my boyfriend, in high school, he was a _diavolo custode_. He introduced me to it.” Luck shuffles a bit as he remembers Dallas and the Devil Boys again, and he bites his lip. Nicholas doesn't seem to notice, and continues.

“What happened to him?”

“He died.”


	2. Chapter I: Coydog

Something was following him, that was for sure. Luck paused on his way down to the bus stop, looking behind him as he heard the sound of bushes rustling. Though it could have just been the wind, Luck was paranoid. Every few days, over the span of the last three weeks, he'd seen a reddish-furred coyote-looking dog standing on the hill behind his house, watching him silently. It was eerily terrifying, and although Luck had no fear of animals, he knew that coyotes, especially coydogs, could be extremely aggressive. The last thing he wanted to do was invoke the wrath of whatever creature that was watching him.

“I haven't seen any coydogs,” his second-oldest brother, Berga had announced at the table that morning boredly. “Maybe you're just seein' things.”

“I know what I saw!” Luck had declared, his cheeks flushing as his hands curled into fists.

“Perhaps it's like, a spirit animal or somethin',” his other brother, Claire had suggested. “Maybe only you can see it.”

But Luck didn't believe in spirits, of any kind. Angels, demons, ghosts, spirits...they were all obviously fake. Only idiotic children would believe in them, and Luck was no idiot. Still, his eyes fixed on the bushes, and for a split second, he saw the coydog, slinking through the bushes and into the forest beyond. He let out a little gasp, his golden eyes going wide, before Claire's voice pierced through his thoughts;

“Hey, c'mon Luck! We're gonna miss the bus again!” The red-haired boy grabbed his hand, and Luck gave a yelp as he tugged him over to the bus stop. He could already see the old yellow bus rumbling down the street, and Luck frowned.

“It wasn't even my fault we missed the bus last time, it was yours.”

“!” Claire looked away, pouting a bit. He had nothing to say to that, and Luck smirked as the bus came to a screeching stop in front of them. The brothers clambered aboard, and Luck took his place in his normal seat, tucking his knees up to his chest and looking out of the window, trying to ignore the other sounds and students. He was never a very social child, and the idea of sitting in the back where Claire and the rowdier kids sat made him terribly nervous.

Luck was quiet throughout the whole ride, thinking about the mysterious reddish-furred coydog. Did he have an owner? Luck doubted it. The few times he'd seen it, there had been no collar around his neck, and that usually meant that there was no owner involved. Was he in a pack with other coyotes, or dogs? And why did he seem to be following Luck? Slowly, as he watched the houses and sidewalks and lawns blur together outside, Luck began spinning a grand tale in his head, thinking about what kind of adventures the creature must've gotten himself in to, and what kind of grand tales he'd have to tell if he were human.

His fantasies were shattered as the old bus came to a shaky and loud stop in front of the high school where he, Claire, and his friends spent most of their waking hours pent up. Sighing, and not looking forward to doing much of anything, Luck slid from his seat and made his way out, stopping in front of the front doors to wait for his usual crew.

Looking over towards the bushes in front of the school, Luck's eyes widened again as he met the coydog's cobalt blue gaze. He was here? At his school? That was new. Did he follow the bus all the way here? As his brother stumbled over to him, his best friend Firo caught in his arms, Luck grabbed Claire's sleeve and pointed over to the bushes.

“Look! Look! There he is!” He exclaimed, but as soon as his brother and friend looked up, the coydog had disappeared into the bushes, and Claire frowned.

“What'm I supposed to be lookin' at?” Claire asked boredly, raising one eyebrow in question. Luck let his arm fall limply to his side, frowning.

“He...he was right there! In the bushes! I swear he was, Claire, I swear it!”

“Somethin' wrong, Lucky?” Firo asked, blinking his wide reddish eyes in curiosity.

“He's just seein' things,” Claire said, then pulled Firo along with him inside. “C'mon, Firo, I gotta show you this new girl, she just transferred here from France like, last week, I bet I can win her over...” His loud voice trailed off, letting Luck know that he was alone, and a furious blush spread across his cheeks.

“He was there...” the boy repeated numbly, before sighing heavily and shuffling into the school behind the masses of other students.

Unbeknownst to him, the coydog tilted his head from the bushes, a curious gleam in his round, cobalt blue eyes.

* * *

The bell rang for the first class of the day, and Luck sighed heavily as he sat at his desk, tracing circles on the top with his finger. Claire was busy trying to flirt with the silent, yet pretty black-haired girl, Chane Laforet, who sat across from him, and, as usual, was getting ignored. He'd been smitten with her since she'd come to the school a week ago, and so far, his affections were going unreturned. Firo was busy doodling on a peice of notebook paper, swinging his legs idly as he did. Deciding to follow his lead, Luck pulled out a his sketchbook, starting to sketch an image of the coydog that he'd seen.

Just as he was trying to capture the creature's intense gaze, the teacher, a tall, mild-mannered man called Maiza Avaro walked into the room, an unfamiliar boy trailing in behind him, his head craning down to look at the floor. Luck only caught a glimpse of him, and his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he continued drawing the coydog's eyes. New students were nothing that he got worked into a tizzy over, although he was the one who, at least for this class, was supposed to help them out.

“Good morning, class,” the teacher greeted, and he got a few unenthusiastic “good mornings” from the other students. “We have a new student joining us today.” He nodded over at the boy, who looked up from his silent observations of the floor tiles. “Go ahead, introduce yourself.”

The boy was quiet for a few moments, and when he finally spoke, Luck looked up. “My name is Dallas Genoard.” For a split second, their eyes connected, and Luck's breath froze in his chest. His eyes were the same color, same shape, same intensity as the coydog's that had been following him. The boy Dallas narrowed his eyes, then looked away, leaving Luck to stare at him in numb awe.

 _'Could it be? No, there's no way. There's no way that boy is the coydog. It's probably just some weird coincidence, yeah.'_ Luck tried to assure himself as the boy settled into the empty seat beside him, running a hand through his reddish-brown hair. _'His hair's even the same color! ...stop that Luck, you're not an idiot._ Luck chastised himself, looking back down at the drawing of the coydog. The eyes stared back at him with the same look that the coydog, and Dallas, had just given him, and Luck didn't quite know how to process this.

It was the beginning of many strange events to come.


	3. Ailbhe

Naturally, the arrival of a new student triggered much interest in the other students, as it had been a while since anyone interesting had come about. Word got out that Dallas was the middle child of the Genoard family, a well-known, rich family who lived not too far away in New Jersey, and just like that, he was the new celebrity of the school. By the time lunch rolled around, Dallas had a gaggle of students crowding around him, mystified and intrigued by the boy.

“So where did you go before you came here?” A freshman who was in the same first period as Luck and Dallas asked, and Dallas didn't look up from his home-brough lunch as he replied.

“My ma an' pa're Catholic, so I went to a private Catholic school.”

“Oh, wow! That must've been expensive.”

“Did you have to wear those weird uniforms?”

“Is it true they don't teach science?”

From where he was standing, it was apparent to Luck that Dallas had become uneasy. There seemed to be some kind of dark aura, like a shadow, flickering around his body, and Dallas pressed his palms flat to the surface of the table.

“I'll be right back,” he muttered, taking off out of the lunchroom and down the hallway. Luck jumped a bit when Dallas brushed past him, and their eyes met again. Dallas's gaze was much more intense this time around, and Luck's breath hitched, gripping the front of his shirt tightly. Why did he seem so interested in _him_ , of all people? Did he know about his family's line of work?

It was common knowledge to Luck, his brothers, and to his tiny circle of friends that Luck was a part of a small mafia family. Their parents had used to control it, but after they both died shortly after each other, Keith, his oldest brother, had taken control of the business. Luck knew enough about it, but he hadn't gotten his hands dirty yet. Keith seemed rather dead set on keeping Luck out of the worst of the business, at least, and he was glad for that. Still, he'd have to find out if Dallas knew about his family. If he did, it was imperitive that he didn't tell anyone—even if that meant that Luck had to get Claire to “convince” him not to.

Silent as a kitten trailing a Rottweiler, Luck carefully treaded after Dallas, watching as he took a sharp turn down a hallway. He kept close enough behind so that Luck could see Dallas, but not so close that Dallas could see Luck, and Luck made sure that there was somewhere to hide if Dallas turned around. The last thing Luck wanted to do was let Dallas know that he was _following_ him. He'd probably think he was wierder than he already was.

The boy finally ducked into the bathroom, and Luck sat carefully outside, peering in so that he could see what was going on. Dallas leaned on the sink, his hands gripping it so hard that his knuckles turned white. His breathing was heavy and labored, and his skin looked pale. He looked like he was going to be sick, but if that was the case, why had he gone to the bathroom and not to the nurse? Just as he was pondering over this, a visible shudder ran through Dallas's body, and his shadow on the floor started to flicker and change shape. There was a sound, like wind rustling leaves, and parts of the shadow started to form a human body. Slowly, the form gained color and coherence, and standing behind Dallas was a tall, red-haired man, dressed in old priest's robes, with a large crucifix around his neck. The man exhaled slowly, opening his deep blue eyes to look over at Dallas, who hadn't turned to address him.

“Dammit, Ailbhe, why can't ya' just chill out fer a bit?” Dallas muttered irritably, now turning to look at the man whom Luck supposed was Ailbhe. “The fuck did you want to talk to me for?”

A smile passed on Ailbhe's face, and he pressed his hands together as if he was praying, giving a little bow to the much shorter boy, speaking with a heavy Irish accent. “My apologies, Dallas. It is just, we are not alone.” Suddenly, in a burst of humanly impossible speed, Ailbhe had snatched Luck by the collar of his shirt, holding him up like a mother cat would hold her kitten. Instinctively, Luck curled up, his golden eyes wide with fear as his body trembled. “This one has been trailing you since you exited the...what do you call it...cafeteria?”

“I—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I just, I...I was worried, I thought you might be—what just happened?!” Luck finally managed to sputter out, and Dallas stared at him with wide eyes as Ailbhe dropped Luck roughly on the floor. “Dallas, wh-who is—”

“My demon,” Dallas spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing now as he stared at Luck. “He's...I'm a _diavolo custode_ , okay? Y'know what that is?” Unfortunately, Luck knew about what _diavolo custode_ supposedly were, as he'd read about them in one of the old Italian history books that Keith kept in the library. He nodded numbly, and Dallas curled a fist into his hair. “Shit. Goddammit, Luck. I shoulda'...”

“Would you like me to dispatch him, Dallas?” Ailbhe asked, rolling up the sleeves on his robes. Luck's eyes went wide again, and against his will, tears started to roll down his cheeks as he backed up under a sink. “After all...it is the law. This human does not have a demon.”

“Hold the fuck up, Ailbhe,” Dallas snapped at him, looking over at Luck, who was trembling under the sink. “Y'know that he doesn't have to die. 'S long as he...fuck. Fucking shit.”

“I-I-I d-don't want t-to d-d-die,” Luck cried, tucking his knees up to his chest. “P-p-please, I'll do anything, I—”

“Hey, hey, chill, okay?” Dallas interjected, crouching down beside him and offering him a hand. “You won't die if you'll promise something. But Ailbhe has to ask you.” Both boys looked over at the demon, who was tapping his heel against the tiled floor. “Do it.”

Sighing heavily, the demon rolled his eyes, then looked down at Luck with a condescending blue gaze. “Boy, are you willing to become a _diavolo custode_?” Both Dallas and Ailbhe were staring at him, and Luck withered under their gazes. He knew what he should say, but this was all happening way too fast. He still barely knew what was going on, but he did know that he wanted to live, and he nodded.

“Y-yes...yes, I am!” Dallas let out a heavy breath of air, and Luck crawled out from under the sink as Ailbhe plopped onto the floor. “S-so...so, d-do I get to l-live now?”

“Yeah, but your trainwreck of fuckery and misery's just begun,” Dallas muttered, and Luck finally took his hand, pulling himself up so that he could stand. “Meet me after school, coffee shop down the road. Four thirty, bring money, 'cause I ain't payin' for you. An' for the love of God, don't tell anyone what you saw, okay?” Luck nodded rapidly. He'd agree to just about anything if it meant that he got to live, and didn't have to be painfully devoured by a demon. But, Dallas was right.

Luck's life of pain and suffering had only just begun.

 


End file.
